


something about us

by datsuzoku (koshitsu_kamira)



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Red String of Fate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11232903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koshitsu_kamira/pseuds/datsuzoku
Summary: Samuel stumbles upon a treasure along the path towards his dreams.





	something about us

**Author's Note:**

> To commemorate one of the most beautiful friendships on the show. Thank you for reading.

The first memory Samuel had retained was of his five-year-old self tottering across the playground, tiny feet bouncing on the colorful rubber tiles while he followed a bright red string that was both invisible and seemingly lead nowhere - though admittedly, at his age all roads appeared to have no end, so the rope’s impossible nature didn’t register as unusual. Uninterrupted, the curious toddler reached the park entrance, pushed the gate open with his chubby hands, then continued the journey down the dirt trail bisecting the grass field, gaze locked upon the yarn strand, steps determined until he met the tall iron fence which surrounded the recreational area; in the distance he could hear his mother’s frantic voice, almost a scream, calling out his name. Samuel remembered toppling onto his butt, blinking away upset tears even if he wasn’t exactly hurt or tired; regardless he felt a bit wronged, like someone had taken the toy car he towed around the sandbox every afternoon, a birthday present he picked directly from the store when he became a big boy, a status he completely forgot the moment his mother showed up, breathless.

Samuel’s parents claimed their son inherited the wanderlust of the maternal side, an excuse the adults happily accepted since nobody could explain why the youngest ran off every so often, getting lost during family trips, grocery shopping errands; briefly, they considered seeking professional advice, only to discard the idea, seeing how the boy was perfectly healthy, just a little too inquisitive perhaps. Hence Samuel got to explore the world once the ground rules had been established, still, he managed scaring his parents to death by disappearing at the airport fifteen minutes before their plane departed, whereas he tagged along the luminous, vibrating rope running between the benches; ultimately, a steward escorted the child back to the gate, having leveraged a bribe of chocolate snack. “There was a puppy,” he replied to his father’s stern question, fiddling with the small double knot on his pinky finger, knowing well the true reason would bring trouble and undue inspection: his quirky classmate who visited the shrink outside school hours didn’t have anything good to say about the sessions or the doctor either; “it’s boring and the old geezer is creepy, man.” 

Shortly after entering middle school, Samuel accidentally discovered a relevant article in those free distribution magazines which mainly targeted adolescent boys and girls, thanks to a copy abandoned at the library desk he usually occupied through the study periods; putting aside the calculus problems, he eyed the glossy pages, skimming the blurbs of relationship tips. Although the date suggestions didn’t particularly interest him, the two sentence reference to the red string of fate snagged his attention; chewing on the pencil eraser, he quickly jotted down the keywords near the margin in case the topic slipped his mind, and resumed doing the homework, the equations, formulas soon taking over his thoughts, leaving no room for aimless musings. A month later Samuel ended up borrowing a hefty tome of oriental mythology that he shoved behind the lacrosse gear, sweaty training clothes where neither nosy friends, nor meddling parents would look - he couldn’t quite grasp the reasoning to his actions, relying on pure intuition instead, the flutter in his stomach intensifying whenever he glimpsed the loop throughout the day. 

The “investigation” lasted years as Samuel juggled school, hobbies and struggled to fit in the new environment, the immensely different culture than in the society he was brought up following the family’s move to South Korea: sometimes the only solace he could find was the scarlet thread, the underlying notion of a living, breathing person, maybe across the planet, who possibly cared, would understand his worries, concerns. The dependency should have bothered him on a level of personal autonomy, yet he was reassured, comforted by the gossamer connection each night he snuggled inside a blanket, curled around a pillow, hoping tomorrow would be a happier day, wishing his effort amounted to a tad more success - he had never demanded a lot anyway - smothering a yawn, Samuel rolled on his stomach, then fell asleep. 

The show was a chance before the very last, a fact he acknowledged upon agreeing with the terms and conditions, giving his mother the permission to sign the contract on his behalf; sitting on the rigid plastic chair, Samuel straightened his back, despite the lethargy weighing him down: he might have lacked optimism fellow young trainees possessed, however, he had desperation in spades. He didn’t like thinking about the past incidents, odds that eventually brought him to join this competition, notwithstanding, Samuel had accepted the  considerable likelihood of people mentioning the subject, divulging the rumours according to the human nature - everybody was into gossips after all, and digging up dirt made sense when the participants were especially competitive. Even then he couldn’t deny the excitement, adrenaline coursing through his veins at the image of performing on stage, facing a real audience again, heart rate elevating unbidden; Samuel refused to imagine another path, occupation for himself because narrow cubicles, neon-lit offices, white shirts and neckties hadn’t ever held an appeal compared to the rush behind the scenes.

Prior to the official shooting date, he let the stylists and the makeup artist fret over his appearance, meanwhile he fidgeted under the unnerving attention, knees bouncing beneath the vanity table, toes curling within his sneakers - the whole hassle anyhow worsened the anxiety building at the bottom of his stomach, near suffocating as the pressure rose to his throat. Swallowing compulsively, Samuel climbed onto his feet, the preparations having completed, trailing his manager toward the company van, and tried limiting the nervous fiddling to his clothing lest he ruined the hairstyle: first impressions were important, moreover, he wanted to create a nice memory from the start, knowing what the director expected of his attendance. He had a big shoe to fill, which was intimidating, but not debilitating, kind of an extra push firing up his competitive streak, forcing him out the comfort zone; staring blankly through the window, Samuel focused on breathing deep and even, settling his churning mind,  _ a task easier said than accomplished _ , he mused wryly, feeling slightly ridiculous for worrying so much.

Leaving the car at the destination, Samuel joined the group idling in the waiting area, accompanied by a worn floor director who brought them to the studio situated in a deceptively modest sized building where the recording equipment, sound and lighting system took up the most space, beside the staff milling unseen around the set, checking or adjusting the furniture. Restless, he kicked the linoleum floor, standing apart the chattering boys, the endeavor to remain calm going down the drain once he received the cue that signaled his turn - chin up, breath held, Samuel leisurely strolled inside the hall, choosing his seat without an ounce of hesitation, conforming to the concept his management had imparted during an early morning briefing. Immediately, he could sense the prying stares drilling holes in his skull, the murmurs gaining volume before a tense silence blanketed the room again, a lull ahead the storm; Samuel found himself gazing dazedly at the giant screen and watching people enter the site, the empty rows slowly getting filled; naturally, he recognized a few names, nodding in greeting whenever a familiar face appeared.

Like a casual spectator, Samuel observed the events, gradually losing track of the happenings, brain having switched to a numb state until a forceful tug on his finger sounded the alarms: the string, normally hanging loose, had become stiff, drawing a straight line between him and a newcomer whose steps faltered, eyes reflected surprise, recognition transparent across his countenance.  _ Lee Daehwi _ , Samuel read, the syllables rolling velvet soft along his tongue, reminiscent of rich milk chocolate with toffee crunch bits dispersed within the bar, sticking to his palate; hands gripping the chair, heartbeat in his throat, he fought the need to crane his neck backwards and steal another glance or pinch his thighs so the illusion would finally disintegrate. The entire situation seemed improbable, yet the cord Samuel had wound around his wrist glowed, making a slight indentation as the pull intensified, relentless, then settled after a moment, the yarn drooping to the floor at last; suppressing a sigh, he leaned back, arms gathered in front of his chest, a clearly defensive posture, still, he didn’t care - the rope was hidden, lost to view.

Today was the worst time for distractions, Samuel brooded, half a mind on the performances, the rest of his attention straying hundred miles away, in a failed attempt to ignore the recent discovery which repercussions he hadn’t dared examine, however definitely registered, the axis of his world having shifted degrees, the ground suddenly unstable, slippery. Overwhelmed, he didn’t notice the hours, stages passing by, melting into a vivid stream of unique clips, although he had tried concentrating and ignoring the subtle attraction, a moth near a giant bonfire, aware how the cameras recorded every gesture, interaction among the trainees - listening to his neighbours’ babble, Samuel inserted appropriate comments, mentally ticking off a chore.

Lee Daehwi’s group performance was certainly anticipated, the buzz floating below the ceiling palpable while the Brand New Music trainees assumed the formation, beginning the choreography the next second - bass thrumming inside his bones, Samuel stared, completely transfixed, discerning reluctant pride amid the deluge of emotions he currently experienced. The stage he had presented was well received with an A rank, therefore he shouldn’t have encountered any worries about the judges grading candidates; regardless, Samuel was sitting on pins and needles, awaiting, hoping the verdict would benefit their future relations or help quenching the terrible curiosity that plagued him since childhood days, throughout adolescence. Such a wish was uncharacteristic of his personality, but Samuel couldn’t deny the urgency whereas Daehwi caught his gaze, eyes radiating confidence and startled delight: the impulse to gather him close, grab his hands and whisper reassurances despite being perfect strangers was akin to gravity, irresistible, anchoring him firmly to the present situation. He let out a relieved exhale when the results were announced, subsequently ducking his head to hide whatever feelings that had shown up on his face bright and clear - preoccupied, Samuel didn’t realize the age-old loneliness, a familiar acquaintance, had subsided, pulled back, the water ebbing, drawing off the shores; shoulders lighter, he laughed, genuine for once.

Hauling the suitcase towards the dormitory after the introductory episode was filmed, Samuel fiddled with his phone in the queue, answering the text messages he had missed during the shooting: of course, his mother was querying whether her precious son had eaten already - he sincerely hoped nobody saw the rather embarrassing nickname the family members used. He really wouldn’t have the contestants or god forbid, the the instructors call him ‘puppy’ if there was a viable choice; so deeply immersed within those disturbing scenarios, Samuel hadn’t detected the silver haired boy sidle right behind him, who then tapped his arm, awkward cough masking a snicker as he jumped, yelp high pitched; “sorry,” Daehwi said, albeit his grin stated otherwise. Samuel frowned at first, a flustered blush climbing up his neck, which he prayed wouldn’t reach his cheeks; interpreting the prolonged silence an unfavourable sign, Daehwi visibly braced himself before asking, “aren’t you interested?” making a vague gesture to the string draped over their shoes, he continued, expression stubborn, “I can just stay away, no hard feelings.”

Rendered speechless, Samuel looked on blankly, stumbling forward on autopilot when the line moved, Daehwi getting a feet inside his personal space, probably standing way closer than what was socially acceptable notwithstanding their connection - shaking off the stupor, he opened his mouth, the words hovering uneasily on the tip of his tongue, “it’s not like that,” he stuttered, pouting. “You caught me off guard,” Samuel explained, inspecting the generosity, expressiveness of the boy’s features, “are you always this forthcoming?” he pushed a bit, tone surly, the question unexpectedly making Daehwi grin, his whole face scrunching up with mirth, “forgive me,” he beamed, and the other was given a whiplash, bewildered by the sudden amusement. “Too much excitement for a day,” Daehwi continued sunnily, smile now less manic, the edges having softened under Samuel’s wary gaze, stance relaxed, “you had shown more attention to the performances,” he added, nudging the boy along the dwindling queue, “meanwhile I practically made a fool of myself staring at you,” he shrugged, glancing aside, “my pride was a little hurt.” 

Samuel wanted to deny the allegations but Daehwi ran ahead without a break, relentless, “I made everything awkward, didn’t I?” he cringed, scuffing the soles of his shoes against the pavement, “I better get going,” he blabbered, lifting the duffle bag strap which the younger boy grabbed to keep him from leaving, “can’t you slow down, please? We are not on a time crunch.” Daehwi deflated akin to a balloon, lips spreading thin on a frown - admittedly, Samuel wasn’t the most patient person in his age group, routinely jumping head first into the unknown, still, he had learnt to take baby steps if the situation demanded precaution; seeing how excitable his newly acquired friend was, he deemed a careful, mild attitude would work the best. “We’ll be stuck together virtually 24/7,” he asserted, trying to encourage the other, chase the gloomy rain clouds away, “frankly, I’m not worried about getting acquainted, it’s kind of impossible to avoid certain people anyway,” Samuel chuckled quietly, hoping Daehwi would understand his joke referring to their peculiar status quo, “who knows, we might be roommates.”

The production team had proved Samuel right on the assumption later when they finally crossed the dormitory threshold and spotted their nametags on the narrow lockers beside each other’s; tracking Daehwi’s movements across the cramped room, he threw his belongings onto the adjacent bunk, then settled next to the boy marvelling at the content of a trainee’s luggage. Technically, it was only eight o’clock in the evening, yet Samuel could have fallen asleep right there and then, considering he had been awake since daybreak, with no opportunity to rest or grab an energy drink; zoning out, he became aware of his surroundings upon Daehwi intertwining their fingers beneath a conveniently positioned pillow, the other’s warm palm pleasant atop his clammy skin. The touch alleviated the tension Samuel barely managed containing: generally speaking, crowds didn’t bother him, although he did tire easily in gatherings where proactive socialization was expected, the added cameras an extra burden; grip tightening around Daehwi’s hand, arms aligned, he whispered a small thank you and watched the red string outline the diminishing space between them.

Following dinner and yet another briefing, the boys crashed on the beds, either peacefully occupying themselves with their phones or talking in a low voice among themselves: Samuel had mysteriously ended up by Daehwi’s side, sharing the downy blanket to fight the spring chill, and feigned interest in the ongoing conversation of trainee life at different agencies. He possibly nodded off mid-conversation, the previous events having drained his energy reserves - he didn’t even want to think of Monday: waking up early to catch the bus, writing homework in the recess, getting called out in front of the class - abruptly roused from his nightmare as he could have picked the answers on the pop quiz, Samuel found himself sprawled over the older boy, a living comforter fending off the cold. In all honesty, he would have stayed put, however weird the circumstances seemed: Daehwi was soft and comfy, smelling of laundry detergent, clean musk, furthermore, he kept the other toasty warm down to the toes; wiggling slightly, Samuel rose to his elbows, making an attempt at disentangling their limbs, crawling backwards to the ladder which connected the twin beds. He prayed the cameras didn’t have night vision functionality, or else he should pick his brain to form an acceptable excuse of what had transpired, before the producers decided on airing a fanciful interpretation; reaching the bunk, he collapsed face first into the mattress, the sheets muffling his exasperated groan - seriously, Samuel despised his nonexistent luck.

The training sessions closely resembled the summer workshops he attended each year, including the permanent smell of physical exertion, stuffy dance rooms and rubber soles squeaking on glossy wooden tiles - the familiar surrounding appeased the alarm simmering beneath the surface, the hard practice obliterated the disquiet coloring the atmosphere, leaving pure exhilaration behind. There was joy in the perfected unison the trainees moved, the weary smirks the full-length mirror captured, then reflected back to the rest, fueling the competitive spirit that enveloped the room; noticing Daehwi’s studious glances, the boy having flopped down on the floor to catch his breath, Samuel joined his break, accepting the proffered bottle of lukewarm water. Since their initial meeting, for once Daehwi wasn’t talking someone’s ear off presumably because he was in an energy saving mode, conserving strength for the actual recording and the late night practice he would inevitably choose instead of sleep - Samuel was dead certain they were going to bump into each other, either on the way back or towards the training center. Weirdly enough, he anticipated the chance encounter, despite his ingrained habit of doing things alone, dealing with the hardships by himself; if Daehwi suggested going through the choreography together, he definitely wouldn’t refuse; Samuel had a sneaking suspicion that the red string held a sway over their relationship, but it could have been all in his head too.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” mumbled a drowsy voice close to his ears, making Samuel jolt out of the cramped position on the ground: he remembered sprawling across a worn yoga mat, thinking a five minute time out was rightfully deserved, severely underestimating the extent of tiredness having accumulated throughout the day, “let’s get you to a proper bed,” the person said, pulling the boy upright by his hands. Samuel winced at his joints cracking obnoxiously loud, nonetheless, he attempted to control his sore limbs and cooperate with the fellow trainee who had taken pity on him, “thanks,” he croaked, slowly opening his eyes to the sight of Daehwi’s half-smile, his wet tresses dripping shower water onto the pyjama top, “chop chop, the sun will rise anytime now,” the other blabbered, chuckle near delirious. Draping the younger’s arm over his shoulders, Daehwi started to drag the sluggish boy along the path towards the dorm, keeping the tempo easy, a companionable silence settling between the two, “don’t make this a routine,” he lightly chided Samuel, playfully elbowing him in the side, “next time I will leave you freeze, okay?” he added, heaving his companion up the stairs. “Understood,” Samuel grumbled, floundering in the dark while the elder nudged him inside their room, eventually finding the way to the bunks, “good night,” he muttered around a wide yawn, a sad whine slipping past his lips as he grappled with the tangled sheets; yanking the comforter from beneath the boy, Daehwi climbed on the mattress, then tucked the blanket under his chin, “now hush, little baby.” Normally Samuel would have protested, indignation prickling his sensibilities, except he felt the profound contentment of gilded childhood memories filled with sunshine, cerulean skies, cotton candy sweetness and cinnamon roll spice swelling within his ribcage, threatening to shatter physical boundaries; stretching his overworked limbs, the tension slipping away, he let oblivion seize the reins.

Against the rules and the reprimands he would likely receive, Samuel sneaked out of the training compound early afternoon, prior to the individual assessment, using the dingy alleys which spread outward in a spiderweb formation, old-fashioned shops lining the narrow streets, giving the area a vintage charm - ambling without a specific destination in mind, he perused the displays, hoping to discover a refreshment store. Soon he stumbled upon a run-down supermarket that regardless had a tiny, rumbling freezer, its the edges rusting where the paint had peeled off, carrying a modest variety of sweets, mainly popsicles; choosing a red bean flavoured treat, he also snatched a sports drink off the rickety shelves, afterwards making a beeline for the cash register and the clerk, both that had seen better days. Snacks acquired, Samuel exited the shop and retreated into the shade of a parasol just across the road, standing sentinel above a couple plastic chairs; taking a seat, he savoured the hush of the deserted place, enjoyed the rarely craved or appreciated solitude, normalcy; examining the neighbour, gaze flitting from one storefront to another, he tried imagining the daily hustle and bustle beyond the window displays. Perhaps, in a different world he was the apathetic boy ringing up the purchased goods, taking the inventory, stocking the empty racks, maybe daydreaming about how life treated the young and famous people seen on the TV shows, newspaper front covers, envy, jealousy blooming at the conviction, the noxious twin flowers society nurtured till full growth, prosperity.

Samuel saw the ratty sneakers first, white rubber faded to yellow, the toe tip scuffed a nondescript grey, before he spied a beaming Daehwi, posture easy, completely dressed down in his black joggers, dark oversized shirt, hair matted with sweat which he hadn’t even bothered hiding beneath a cap; “you’re very hard to find,” he said in lieu of a greeting, laughter shy. “Mind if I join you?” the elder asked purely out of courtesy, ignoring the other’s silent behaviour, then plopped on the stool next to Samuel’s and began nibbling at a sugar glazed pastry, taking tiny bites of the bread, barely making any noise other than the crinkling plastic wrap, the occasional creak when he wiggled into a more comfortable position, “aren’t you hungry?” he inquired a couple moments later, thrusting a sweet roll into his companion’s face. Hesitantly, the younger boy accepted the scone, eyes straying towards the delicate bow around Daehwi’s pinky finger that seemed feeble, would get easily unravelled by the gentlest spring breeze, “thanks,” Samuel mumbled, hurriedly occupying his hands since they itched to touch the loop, tie a better knot to the end of the red string, “sorry for being such a bad company,” he added, voice breaking midway. Daehwi hummed, genially patting Samuel’s knee, “don’t sweat it,” he mouthed while chewing, far more graceful than teenagers at their age, still, the other boy wrinkled his nose in distaste, eliciting a sheepish grin, “everyone has a lot on their plate so I won’t blame you,” he pointed out, finally swallowing the last bit of his food, “misery loves company, though.” 

“I guess?” Samuel blurted, feeling like a chastised kid as the elder stroked his head, smile patient, motion deliberate, reminding him of shelter caretakers approaching frightened animals - honestly, he didn’t know how much the description befitted his current state and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway since he instinctively trusted Daehwi not to exploit the weakness unearthed today. “We should return soon,” the elder suggested then, standing up, hand dropping to his side, hovering awkwardly over the fleece material until Samuel grabbed his wrist under the guise of stumbling onto his feet, but didn’t let go once they had left the quaint spot, leisurely meandering back to the training hall, steps unhurried as if they both wanted to stay a little longer beneath the tattered parasol. Wistful, the sun blinding his vision, skin burning where the sleeves didn’t reach, Samuel pondered whether the bittersweet tug at his heart, the almost unpleasant tightness of his chest conveyed a sense of belonging; restless, fingers sticky, he clutched onto Daehwi’s soft hand, finding the physical contact soothing, quelling the uneasiness buzzing in the back of his mind. The other glanced at Samuel from the corner of his eye, stare curious, however, he remained mute, preserving the cozy silence which permeated the distance between them, linking the two boys together, and created an intangible connection that the younger somehow regarded more secure, definite compared to the scarlet cord lagging behind their matching strides. A decade older and supposedly wiser, Samuel still thought the roads were endless, course unpredictable - even if he had lost the enthusiasm to predict the next milestone or explore the possible stations, he nonetheless carried enough hope to endure the hardships, face the inevitable challenges; at least now, he also had a companion with whom he could share the best parts of his journey.


End file.
